novelraw Chapter 160: Krafte War - The Battle of Barua (6)
Chapter 160: Krafte War - The Battle of Barua (6)
The intense midday sun was slowly setting, staining the sky blood-red.
“Aim—”
Muskets were raised—
“Fire!”
The Krafte Army’s line erupted in a unified burst of flame.
The soldiers who had fired their guns, without a moment’s delay, poured in fresh gunpowder and rammed in new bullets.
Repetitive movements, almost flawless, like a single machine.
Amidst the overwhelming barrage, the Revolutionary Army was suffering massive casualties.
However.
“Those bastards, just how long are they going to hold out?”The commanders of the Krafte Army, who had seemed like war machines, were bewildered.
Though the damage they had initially inflicted with their volley fire had been considerably reduced due to the Saintess Queen, it had become a full-scale battle.
The number of fallen Revolutionary Army soldiers already numbered in the tens of thousands.
Yet, they did not break.
“Just a little longer! Those bastards are tired! Their accuracy and reloading speed are dropping!”
Commander Damien De Millbeau, with his sword drawn and a magic barrier up, was at the very frontline, personally blocking bullets and encouraging the troops.
“189th Company, support the 123rd! That side is wavering!”
“Y-yes, Major!”
Giselle Davi, who had remained in the rear in Millbeau’s stead, was holding the line by committing every last soldier she could muster to the points that were about to collapse.
“Haaaaah—!”
The lightning summoned by Louis d'Aquitaine turned dozens of Krafte soldiers, no matter how elite, into charcoal.
“Whoops, that was close.”
Leon Durand, who had stepped in front of Louis as he panted for breath, his mana depleted, deflected the shot of a Schütze who had been aiming for him.
“Hah, hah, th-thank you.”
“I’m earning my pay, so no need for thanks.”
Leon Durand replied with a faint smile, then narrowed his eyes, observing the Revolutionary Army's vanguard, which held on tenaciously even as it seemed about to break at any moment.
The vanguard was the one area where the Krafte Army was still overwhelming them.
“Units that have suffered too much damage, rotate out, pull them back temporarily to reorganize, then recommit them! We have far more troops! Push them until the enemy is exhausted!”
“I understand, Commander!”
Louis Desaix, commanding the main force, handled his troops calmly and skillfully, relentlessly pushing forward.
No matter how great the Krafte Army was, their numerical inferiority made flexible unit management impossible.
And being human, made of flesh and blood, they could not help but grow tired from the unceasing attacks.
Just as the front line was held so tautly, a unit arrived that would change the course of the war.
“Commander Millbeau!”
“What is it?”
Damien, who only glanced back at Giselle Davi’s call, was on the verge of tears at the sight of the unit arriving behind them.
“General Nere's reinforcements have arrived!”
“Oh, ooooh, finally…!”
“You have worked hard, Commander! From now on, we will lead the counterattack!”
Before the Krafte Army, exhausted and depleted from fighting for half a day, appeared elite troops, including the Revolutionary Guard, their stamina fully preserved, and began their attack.
*
“Your Majesty the Great King, the ammunition is nearly depleted!”
“Your Majesty the Great King, the enemy's artillery is concentrating fire on the guard! The losses are severe!”
The Great King was listening to the reports, his hands pressing down hard on his cane.
An army that, even after accumulating tens of thousands of sacrifices, would launch a counterattack.
Even the Krafte Army had never fought against such an enemy.
The movements on the battlefield were clear to the Great King’s eyes.
The infantry battle, where they had been absolutely certain of their superiority, was now at a stalemate.
'How did it come to this?'
Certainly, in the initial engagement, they had held an overwhelming advantage.
The incredible capabilities of the Krafte Army overwhelmed the enemy and pushed them to the brink of collapse, but the enemy recovered from that initial shock thanks to the Saintess Queen's performance.
After that, the enemy responded nimbly to the strength of the Krafte Army, and the accumulated losses and the long battle were now taking an undeniable toll on Krafte's elite army.
Marquis Lafayette's decision to deliberately snipe the artillery first, relying on the Saintess Queen's protection, became a disaster for the Krafte Army now that the battle had turned into a long war of attrition.
Krafte's artillery was already half-neutralized, and perhaps because he judged the artillery sufficiently neutralized, Marquis Lafayette was now pouring its firepower onto the infantry.
The Royal Guard, who blocked the breakthrough of the enemy Cuirassiers, suffered terrible losses from an incredible concentrated barrage before they could even properly join the infantry battle.
If they ran out of ammunition in this situation, all that would be left was melee combat.
Krafte's strong army was also skilled in melee combat, but could soldiers exhausted from half a day of firefights defeat the numerically superior Revolutionary Army?
The Great King could not even begin to fathom the tenacity and persistence of that Revolutionary Army.
In a situation where it was impossible to predict how many more would die before they routed, should he enter into melee combat?
Or else.
'Should I retreat?'
“Hah.”
A choice he had never even considered having to make. The moment it came to his mind, the Great King let out a dry laugh.
To think that it would really come to this.
“Your Majesty the Great King, a messenger!”
As the Great King smiled bitterly, news arrived that would change the course of the war.
“His Highness, Prince Heinrich, has re-formed the Cuirassiers and is on his way to the battlefield! He will arrive within the hour!”
*
The momentum of the Krafte Army was broken.
The moment he had that conviction, bad news from a Chasseur threw the high command into chaos.
“Cuirassiers?”
“Yes, Your Excellency, Marquis Lafayette. Their numbers seem to be around 5,000!”
“Damn it.”
It had only been about half a day since their defeat by Morelle and Gaston, and they had already re-formed?
No matter how great the discipline of the Krafte Army, this was beyond expectations.
He knew Prince Heinrich had military talent, but to think he could display such rallying ability in the midst of a disastrous rout after a counter-ambush.
“Judging by the numbers, it seems the entire unit has not been re-formed. It’s likely they hastily gathered and sent only those stragglers who were contacted and still able to fight.”
“But even that is a disaster.”
After holding on, fighting a delaying action, and pushing forward.
After neutralizing almost all of Krafte’s artillery and our unilateral bombardment, after committing even the last reserves of Nicolas Nere and Louis Desaix, a stalemate was the best we could achieve.
We were betting on holding on until the Krafte Army’s ammunition ran out, since the Cuirassiers’ charge had failed…
To have our flank pierced so defenselessly by 5,000 Cuirassiers here, the battle will be over.
I looked at Gaston, who had not even had a chance to wash and was still in his blood-soaked clothes, and asked.
“…General Gaston, how many of our cavalry can be deployed?”
“I will do my best to gather them, but I believe we cannot even deploy 500 at the moment…”
“Damn it.”
Gaston had fortunately returned safely, but most of the Cuirassiers had not.
The Cuirassiers who had charged into the enemy lines and clashed head-on with the guard suffered extreme damage, and most survivors were wounded.
It had been such a fierce close-quarters battle that even General Jerome Morelle had barely returned, wounded by a gunshot.
They were in a much worse situation than the Krafte Cuirassiers, who had been routed much earlier and had time to re-form.
In a situation where the entire army had been committed to the front line to achieve a stalemate with that monstrous Krafte Army, reserves were nonexistent.
What was left were about 2,000 Chasseurs, meant for reconnaissance and pursuing enemy stragglers, and fewer than 500 Cuirassiers.
Is it possible to stop 5,000 Cuirassiers with this?
No. The Krafte Army could split their forces to deal with our cavalry and still easily ravage our flank.
“Y-Your Excellency the Marquis. My apologies, but if our flank is ravaged by the cavalry here, our army will suffer devastating damage…”
Alexandre Berthier, his face pale, hesitated, then spoke carefully.
“It is already a great achievement to have fought against the Krafte Army to this extent. For now, it might be best to retreat and plan for the next…”
“Next?”
Will there be a next time?
The crystals Eris used in this battle cannot be used again, even if we bankrupt the treasury of Francia.
If even Christine’s machinations, which could yield results with just a single victory, or at least a draw, come to nothing.
I can only see an ending where we are repeatedly pushed back against those war machines, and eventually, even the capital falls.
And you want me to retreat here? Just because we are short by one single step.
You want me to retreat, leaving behind the tens of thousands of corpses piled on that plain?
Is that truly the only way?
“…Marquis-nim?”
While I was deliberating, a small voice came from behind me.
“…Your Majesty.”
I turned my head to see Eris, her incredibly pale face looking at me.
Seeing Sir Beaumont standing behind her, unable to hide his concern, it seems she came out again, unable to bear it, despite being told not to.
…Truly, she is incorrigible.
“What is the war situation?”
“The war situation.”
You have exhausted all your resources, and tens of thousands of soldiers have lost their lives, yet we may have to retreat because we are not strong enough. To say that in front of Eris—no.
“…There is a reserve, it seems.”
Here it is.
The strongest cavalryman, who can easily outmatch dozens of ordinary cavalrymen.
The best bait, to make the enemy not even consider splitting their forces to attack the infantry.
“Pardon? A reserve, Your Excellency?”
While Alexandre Berthier was bewildered, I looked at Eris and asked.
“Your Majesty. Do you have any crystals left?”
“One is left. I just lost consciousness a moment ago…”
What about your physical condition?
I almost asked that, but I swallowed my words and said something else.
“Treating this as our last resort, please cast the strongest possible protection on about 2,500 men. Is it possible?”
“Your Excellency, Marquis Lafayette, even with Her Majesty’s protection, it is impossible to stop 5,000 heavy cavalry with 2,000 light cavalry and 500 newly re-formed heavy cavalry. The enemy will surely split their forces and strike our infantry—”
“I will raise my flag and stand at the forefront. Sir Gaston, assist me. My apologies, Your Majesty, but I will borrow Sir Beaumont as well.”
Against 5,000 heavy cavalry, 2,000 light cavalry and 500 heavy cavalry would only hold them off for a moment.
But what if they receive Eris’s blessing, and the three strongest knights of the Revolutionary Army lead the charge?
“When the Commander-in-Chief is charging directly before their eyes with an inferior force, no cavalry would ignore him to pursue cannon fodder.”
“I-it is reckless!”
Alexandre Berthier protested in terror, and Gaston, too, seemed to want to say something, but I ignored them and asked Eris.
“Is it possible, Your Majesty? This is the last way to ensure the sacrifices of this battlefield are not in vain.”
Eris, who had just regained consciousness, was bewildered, but it seemed she had quickly grasped the situation from the conversation alone.
Her wavering violet eyes slowly settled, and in their place, determination took hold.
Eris opened her mouth.
“As always, I trust you. I will do whatever I can.”
I replied.
“I will not disappoint Your Majesty’s trust.”
*
The Chasseurs, exhausted from the protracted cavalry and reconnaissance engagements, and the Cuirassiers, who had barely survived plunging into the enemy lines, had all gathered.
But even after gathering all the cavalry we could muster, their number barely exceeded 2,500.
The blessing Eris had bestowed by wringing out her last crystal and strength blew away their fatigue and filled their bodies with overflowing power, but even so, everyone knew this would be a severely disadvantageous fight.
I met the eyes of Sir Gaston, who was standing next to me.
He had been the son of a mercenary who admired knights only in stories, but had become a knight braver and more loyal than any. That man stood by me.
On the other side was Sir Fredrick de Beaumont.
He had been a guard knight since before the kingdom fell, having protected Eris even before she became queen. He was here to help me, at her command.
How long had we waited? In the distance, the characteristic dust cloud of a galloping cavalry began to rise.
…This is the last turning point of this battle.
I took a deep breath and looked at the flag held by the standard-bearer next to me.
The flag with the crest of the Lafayette family.
For some reason, I laughed.
Around, and around, and around.
It is Lafayette’s battlefield again.
Before long, thousands of Krafte Cuirassiers appeared from over the hill.
At once, tension filled the faces of the cavalrymen.
On such a battlefield, in such a situation.
Facing an absolute disadvantage, the Blue Knight, under the flag of Lafayette, had led the charge.
On the hill, following the path of blood he had left behind, I had declared.
Now, I, Lafayette, will raise the flag for you.
When I drew my sword, the eyes of all the soldiers turned to me.
The Blue Knight, my father.
The words Hubert De Lafayette had spoken as he drove thousands of troops to their deaths were intended for his legend that would last forever.
“Follow me!”
But now.
For Christine, for Eris, for all the sacrifices of Francia.
So that the tens of thousands of lost lives would not be in vain.
“And I shall make you legends!”
I kicked the rump of my horse and began to gallop towards the center of the enemy lines.